From the Ashen Flatlands


All day long we watch the neglectful highway,

The once in a while rumbling of buses,

The barren hills, the ashen fields.


Stupidly puffing smoke towards the grey sky,

Yoked to the land, all day long we listen to the tiny

Tea kettle hiss its contempt, and talk, talk, talk—


About the young ones who left us to fight

Their own battles against the invincible demons

Of broken dreams, of poverty and tatters.


What can we do except pantomime

Their gentle callousness to us, to the land,

In dull mimicry, and stare vacantly to what lies ahead?


These flatlands are only the reflection of ruins,

Hungry, naked, starving, they scream their mute pain

Of being left alone, and gape at us, hollow-eyed.


Never mind the tea shacks spread along the roads,

Never mind the rusty billboards that mark the beginning

Of a new era in the history of Nepali politics.


Dispirited of smoking and drinking tea,

We rise up, weary of the light, we chew unhappiness,

We lie down, sick and tired of the night, and dream


About the misty mountains with an orange sun

Lugging above the horizon, getting some respite

From our long-standing suffering.

Bibek Adhikari

Poetry by Bibek
Read 279 times
Written on 2019-02-10 at 13:29

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Coo & Co The PoetBay support member heart!
Yes, we agree with our fellow poets. This is excellent, Bibek, in its scene setting, portraiture, and sense of spiritual questing :>)

Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Nepal as Eliot might have seen it. Nicely done.

Bookmarked and favourited. My superlatives fail me; this is potent, confident, strong, authoritative, authentic writing.

josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
There is resignation in this but also an ech of belief in change.